Quotes About Mystery

Entonces vamos, Manello. Vamos hacia la noche, hacia los nuevos conocimientos.

Trez went over and lifted the lid. After a deep inhale, he glanced over with a smile. "My brother is a helluva cook." Sure was, John thought. Although with Shadows you always had to wonder what the protein was. Rumor had it they liked to eat their enemies. The

What…are you?" she choked out. "No sunlight. Funky choppers." He inhaled raggedly. "Take a guess.

Hola, poli." La voz baja y masculina precedía de detrás de la cabeza de Butch. Sonrió. Ese sonido siempre le hacía pensar en la niebla nocturna, aquella que oculta lo que puede matarte. Lo bueno es que a él le gustaba el lado oscuro.

He was extraordinary. Or maybe…extraordinarily dangerous was more like it. However she defined the effect of him, she had a sixth sense he was going to change her life. The

Los delicados copos que caían entre su pelo negro y corto y sobre esos hombros desnudos y fuertes no lograban suavizar su imagen ni un poco. Ella no era ningún ángel que estaba siendo amable con él por una razón sencilla. Era perversa, peligrosa e impredecible. Y él la amaba.

It was hard to explain. But what was between them went further than a mating ceremony or a back carving or a witnessed exchange of commitment. He couldn't put his finger on the why of it...but she was his missing puzzle piece, the twelfth in his dozen, the first and last pages of his book.

You're dressed way too nIce for what I have in mind to do to you.

What else don't we know about you, Miss Riley? Liz asked. Do you put on a superhero costume and fight crime at night in the metropolis? Yes, but only between three and five a.m. Oooh, aren't you the smart-ass. Liz cocked her head to the side and studied her.

The clarinet in its most perfect form is a strange beast--if it is imperfect, it is also completely untamable.

Libraries are medieval forests masking opportunity and danger; every aisle is a path, every catalog reference a clue to the location of the Holy Grail. It is here that I become privy to the sacred songs of kings and the ballads of rogues. Here are tales of life-and-death struggles of other wayfarers as they battle personal dragons and woo fair maidens. Walking down this hallway, I am a knight entering the forest in search of the truth...

Graustark novels

Eckhart is saying that once we become empty of all the dross within, God the Mystery can do nothing but rush in to fill the vacuum of our absence. It is up to each one of us to choose between suffocating in the vortex of the limited, knowable self, or instead to cut the cords which bind, and let ourselves drift out into, and be, the vast, incomprehensible sea of Being itself.

He produced a black plastic box with a

forage cap slanted to his left eye and the

And when the fog's over and the stars and the moon come out at night it'll be a beautiful sight.

It was a rainy night. It was the myth of a rainy night.

Don't tell them too much about your soul. They're waiting for just that.

She brooded and bit her rich lips: my soul began its first sink into her, deep, heady, lost; like drowning in a witches' brew, Keltic, sorcerous, starlike.

and I shudder sometimes to think of all that stellar mystery of how she IS going to get me in a future lifetime, wow - And I seriously do believe that will be my salvation, too. A long way to go.

This was a manuscript of the night we couldn't read.

What is he aching to do? What are we all aching to do? What do we want?" She didn't know. She yawned. She was sleepy. It was too much. Nobody could tell. Nobody would ever tell. It was all over. She was eighteen and most lovely, and lost.

Jesus was a strange hobo who walked on water—

And the Hippos were boiled in their tanks!